


Knowledge Gained by Murderous Means is Wisdom's Bitter Enemy

by FireFauxIsLoading



Category: GreedFall, GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: A lot of hurt not a lot of comfort but it's still there, Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Doesnt reveal end game or anything about the quest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, HELLA WHUMP Y’ALL, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Medical Procedures, No Sex, No Smut, No Spoilers I Think?, The whole first section is basically pillow talk and cute, Torture, Whump, Written To Suit The Authors Weirdly Specific Tastes, nonconsensual medical treatments, not sorry, the end is sweet but probably not realistic, the middle is gory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireFauxIsLoading/pseuds/FireFauxIsLoading
Summary: Cyrus De Sardet is shot while trying to capture the dreaded Doctor Asili at his lab in Hikmet. Vasco is there for him, but with Aphra gone to go get help will Cyrus survive long enough for her to get back? And how will Vasco defend Cyrus when Asili suddenly appears before them, ready to reclaim his test subject?TL;DR: Cyrus deSardet gets shot while trying to find Asili which makes Vasco flip his shit because I’m always a slut for non-sexual hurt/comfort. Then after Aphra runs to get help Asili shows up and everything goes even further downhill because I torture the characters I loveEDITED: 2/9/2020 based on feedback. Fixed errors in grammar, spelling, and added a bit more to the story.
Relationships: De Sardet/Vasco (GreedFall), Male De Sardet/Vasco(GreedFall)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Knowledge Gained by Murderous Means is Wisdom's Bitter Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> So this opens really cute but was essentially inspired by the fact that when I went on the quest to find Doctor Asili in his lab, my De Sardet got thrown down by one of the henchmen with a gun right outside the door to his lab and I thought it would be fun to throw Vasco into that situation.  
> .  
> Then I sat on this fic for a few days and decided it needed more dialogue so that's where all the cute stuff at the beginning comes from. Now it's like 22 pages long (?) and honestly this might be the darkest/goriest thing I've ever written but I've also been watching a lot of medical dramas and the Shannara Chronicles recently so that's probably why.  
> .
> 
> Hope you enjoy my weird dark twisted brain child!

Cyrus stretched, lounging comfortably in the early morning light. His bed in Hikmet was the most comfortable of all the beds he has ever slept in- even the posh one that Constantin insisted on bringing from home that now resided in the palace. It made sense that his least favorite city had his most favorite apartment, otherwise he would simply avoid the city and it’s drama eternally. There had to be something redeemable about his visits to the damnable place and it’s incompetent governor. 

Hikmet was the least favorite of the cities that Cyrus de Sardet found himself in- not because of the people, but because every single time he had a mission that involved the city’s Governor, it came with lies and too many extra strings. Too much of a puzzle that Cyrus didn’t have the pieces to- and Cyrus liked strings, he liked puzzles. 

With a satisfied groan to finish off his languid stretch, Cyrus rolled to his left and flung one arm over the bare chest of his lover, pulling the other man closer as they both slowly awakened. Vasco grumbled at the jostling but settled softly into Cyrus’s embrace as the other man began to pepper kisses along his shoulder.

“Your mustache tickles.” Vasco half-chuckled. Cyrus smiled and pressed the kisses more firmly into Vasco’s skin. Vasco grumbled again but smiled, eyes still closed and body pliant from sleep as Cyrus tangled together their fingers and threw one lean leg across Vasco’s hips.

“Good morning to you too, my love.” Cyrus laughed softly in response.

Vasco rolled over and smiled as he cracked one eye to look at Cyrus, but flinched when the light hit his face. He pulled the shorter man closer by his hips so that he could bury his face in the center of Cyrus’s chest, hiding from the slowly intruding sun.

“Why the bloody hell don’t we ever close those curtains?” Vasco asked, thinking fowl thoughts at the sun as it rose and beamed directly into the room.

“Because the moonlight is always so lovely” He stroked one hand idly through Vasco’s chocolate locks, “that we forget how horrid the morning sun is.” 

“And here I thought I was the poet.” Vasco mumbled.

Cyrus snorted a laugh but didn’t otherwise respond, instead pressing a kiss to the top of Vasco’s head. With his free hand, Cyrus gently scratched his fingers along Vasco’s scalp and grinned broadly at the way Vasco melted against him. When Cyrus ran his fingers down through the long locks, gently untangling Vasco’s hair from where it was sleep-mussed, Vasco practically purred and untangled his hand from DeSardet’s in order to wrap both arms around him and drag him in closer. Vasco leaned back searchingly for just a moment before he sealed a slow, sensual kiss that seared Cyrus like whiskey.

They laid together like that for a while, drifting in warmth and languor with Vasco hiding from the early morning light and Cyrus switching between tracing the lines of ink on Vasco’s shoulders and back to playing with his hair. They might have drifted back off to sleep if they didn’t have to get up and be so responsible.

“Remind me again why I can’t hold you like this for the whole day?” Cyrus asked, stroking his fingers lovingly down Vasco’s bare spine.

“You insisted that we need to go talk to that Governor Burhan today and confront him about his utter uselessness.” Vasco reminded him, his breaths puffing against Cyrus’s uncovered chest.

“Ah, yes. I think I might enjoy showing the Master of the great ‘Nation of Knowledge’ just how unknowledgeable he is.” Cyrus smirked, emphasizing the words with a cheeky grin- though Vasco was too sleepy to notice Cyrus’s cleverness.

“I know I’ll be laughing the whole while. Aphra as well, I’d bet.” 

“Even Petrus will be laughing by the time I’m done giving Burhan a piece of my mind.” 

“I suppose that means we have to get up then.” Vasco said through a yawn.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Cyrus sighed, pressing another kiss to Vasco’s brow. Driven only by duty, Cyrus reluctantly climbed out of bed. Vasco, at the absence of Cyrus’s heat, promptly cocooned himself in the blankets, watching Cyrus from the bed as the other man walked to his wardrobe and began searching through coats. Sometimes Cyrus wondered if Vasco was actually part cat, the way he always sought out warmth.

“What should I wear?” Cyrus asked, rifling through the coats.

Vasco pushed his head out of the downy covers, “Wear the blue and red one-” he said, pointing in the closet’s general direction.

“This one? Why?” Cyrus asked over his shoulder, though he pulled said coat out of the wardrobe regardless. It was an exact match to the one that Constantin usually preferred to wear.

“Red and blue are the colors of the wealthy and powerful. If nothing else, it’ll help send your message across.”

“And what message is it exactly that you think I’m trying to send, my Captain?” Cyrus asked, calling Vasco by the title-turned-pet-name.

“No one fucks with Cyrus de Sardet.” Vasco said with full clarity.

Cyrus let out a great laugh at that, shaking the coat out and laying it out across a chair while he donned clean breeches and his white undershirt. He had never been one to have servants dress him. He checked himself in the mirror when he was ready, combing his short hair down neatly and using his razor to neaten up the his undercut where it was shorn close to his scalp. He sheared away his cheek stubble, then went back with a comb and a little bit of oil to arrange his goatee and mustache. The mark on the side of his face stood out in stark contrast to his pale complexion, but it had never bothered him. He could vaguely hear his mother in the back of his head though, making loving but snide remarks about how he had managed to fall in love with a man who also bore markings on his face.

Vasco was still in bed, though now he had untangled himself from the blankets and was sitting upright, watching Cyrus get ready with a soft grin on his face. His Captain was only ever soft for him, Cyrus thought to himself.

“What?” Cyrus asked.

“Oh, don’t mind me, my Tempest. Just admiring the view.” He said as he swung his legs down, bare feet brushing the floor.

“I’m sure you’ve seen far more incredible views at sea.” Cyrus deflected absentmindedly as he continued to make himself presentable.

“Nothing is more breathtaking than you, my darling.” Vasco replied easily, striding across the room. With those long, strong legs he made it to Cyrus in a handful of heartbeats, gently taking Cyrus’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of the nobleman’s hand.

Cyrus smiled and used the hand that Vasco held to pull his lover closer. Cyrus was only an inch or two shorter than Vasco- the perfect height so that when he pulled him close he could lay his head on the sailor’s shoulder.

“I can’t wait for the day when I don’t have to be this any more.” Cyrus whispered.

“Be what? The Legate of the Congregation of Merchants?” Vasco asked, mimicking Cyrus’s voice as best he could in jest. Cyrus chuckled and pulled back, his arms looped loosely around Vasco’s middle. He rubbed mindless circles into the small of Vasco’s back and smiled when Vasco let out a soft groan.

“Well yes, but I have grown so tired of being… what’s expected of me, I suppose.” Cyrus glanced from Vasco’s lips back to his soulful eyes, “I want to be the person that I wish myself to be, not be tied to diplomacy or aristocracy as I am.”

“...You want freedom. I can understand that.” Vasco sighed, looking wistfully out the window next to them. The ocean was nowhere in sight, but Cyrus knew Vasco could still hear the siren song of the sea.

“Don’t worry, my love.” Cyrus softly cupped Vasco’s cheek but did not force him to turn his head from the window. “I’ll get you back your Sea-Horse. You promised to show me the world with her, did you not?” Cyrus smiled and kissed Vasco softly on the lips when he did at last turn his head away from the sea.

“That I did. I’ll bring you your freedom, and all the other treasures of the sea, my Tempest, you can count on that.”

“All the treasures of the sea?” Cyrus asked teasingly.

“That and much, much more-” With a glint in his eye Vasco began pressing hungry kisses to Cyrus’s pulse, pulling the other man back towards the bed when they were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Greenblood? You intend on spending the whole day up here with your lover boy?”

“Who are you calling boy, old man?” Vasco yelled jokingly through the door. Cyrus chuckled and heard it mirrored from Kurt through the door.

“Be right there Kurt. Let Aphra know that she’ll be joining Vasco and I today.”

“You’re not taking Siora?” Kurt asked.

“No, I think Aphra will enjoy the tongue-lashing I’m about to lay upon the honorable Governor.” 

“Aye, she wouldn’t miss that for the world!” Kurt laughed. They could hear him descending the stairs with great thumping boot falls as he went to deliver the message.

“You should probably get a shirt on my love. As much as I enjoy this view-” Cyrus said, hands gripping possessively at Vasco’s hips, “I’m afraid that the court may not be of the same mind.”

“The looks on their faces would be worth it.” Vasco laughed. 

Cyrus laughed in reply “They absolutely would be!” He kissed Vasco briefly on the lips.

Cyrus sighed, “Maybe when I make my grand exit from court we can plan something more scandalous.” Cyrus smirked and raised one eyebrow, which had Vasco laughing once more and kissing along the mark on his jaw with ardor. Cyrus chuckled and with one last gentle kiss pushed Vasco so that they were an arm’s width apart.

“Get dressed, my Captain. I’ll meet you downstairs with breakfast.”

Cyrus straightened himself out once more in the mirror and then moved towards the door.

“Cyrus.” Vasco said softly, almost meekly- though Cyrus would not use the word ‘meek’ to describe Vasco in any circumstance. Cyrus paused with his hand on the door knob, looking at Vasco.

His brave Captain stood silhouetted against the window. Vasco’s dark hair flowed just past his shoulders, those green-gold eyes blazing in the light of the risen sun, which warmed the red tones in his dark brown hair. It caught on the curve of those muscular shoulders, and Cyrus could swear that the light dripped down to follow the blue-black lines of the Naut’s tattoos. The filigree lines that roved over Vasco’s well-built torso told a story that Cyrus had yet to hear in its entirety, but this was the man that Cyrus loved. This was what he knew he would never again be able to live without. This was the story that he wanted to be a part of. He would give up his title, his very life for this man. He brought his gaze back to Vasco’s soft smile, to the newer lines of tattoos on the man’s cheeks that he already so adored- almost as much as he adored Vasco’s beauty mark. This was the view he wanted above all else, every day that he could have it.

“I love you, Cyrus.” Vasco swallowed thickly with emotion, and Cyrus felt himself mirror the depth of Vasco’s emotion, though he knew not why. They had said those words a thousand times before, and would say them a thousand times more.

“I love you too.” Cyrus beamed, turning the knob and heading downstairs to grab a quick breakfast for the two of them- probably something they could eat while they walked.

Vasco turned to the mirror and took his own straight edge to his stubble- clearing away the small growth of hairs from his tattoos before he donned his shirt, hat, boots, and finally his coat and armor. With one last glance in the mirror Vasco pulled his hair up with the leather cord he so favored and then headed downstairs to meet the rest of the group. With slight trepidation, he grabbed a few extra potions, both healing and poison, and double checked that his pistol had plenty of ammo.

He had a feeling it would be a long day.

~~~~~ 

Not like this, not like this. 

Like a bad shanty, the mantra repeats in Vasco’s head over and over again. 

“Cyrus!” He roars, cutting down the woman standing in between them as he sprints towards the other man.

His lover is a crumpled heap on the ground, the filthy soil that has already soaked up the blood from Doctor Asili’s ‘experiments’, but it is still hungry as it swallows up Cyrus’s life force as well. 

Vasco had been across the battlefield when Cyrus fell. The legate had been thrown down by the deafening blast of a rifle, the close range of the blunderbuss tossing Cyrus back like a rag doll. Vasco tasted fear like lightning on his tongue. He felt anger boil his blood. He advanced.

Vasco snarled as he pounced upon his lover’s attacker, the tattoos swirling across his cheeks making him look even more fearsome in the dim light. A viper defending its nest, a dragon fighting for it’s horde- neither of these things were as fearsome as Captain Vasco in that moment.

There is more gunfire. The echo’s crack through the cave and reverberate off each other as if the sound is a weapon itself.

Vasco doesn’t stop pulling the trigger until the gun clicks empty. He doesn’t even really know when he started shooting. Doesn’t remember lining up the shot.

He feels no remorse at the terror frozen on the dead man’s face, falling to Cryus’s side in an instant, gun forgotten but not out of reach. His knees soak through with blood. He sheathes his bloody sword out of habit as he kneels next to Cyrus and fumbles for a moment with his hands- not for lack of experience, just not knowing where to begin. The damage is… it’s… 

Vasco swallows thickly.

Cyrus pants wetly in front of him while Aphra finishes off the last of Asili’s guardsmen and runs to join her fallen companions. There are almost certainly more of these men crawling through the caves, but for now they seem to be relatively safe. At the very least they’re hiding for now. 

Cyrus and his companions hadn’t even made it inside the blasted building hiding the mad doctor. They had only just made it through the cave itself after seeing all those that Asili had locked up for later use. It had made all of them sick to their stomachs, but Cyrus had been wise in not bringing Siora on this mission. Vasco had a feeling that the hot-headed enchantress might not have been able to hold her temper. His own temper was probably in need of checking judging from the carnage he just inflicted. 

“Cyrus, hold on. Stay with me.” Vasco pleaded.

Vasco pulled Cyrus closer so that his head was elevated across Vasco’s thighs, as high as Vasco can get him off the ground without aggravating the vicious wound in his chest. Cyrus ends up settled with his broad shoulders resting across Vasco’s knees while the sailor pries open the infuriatingly unprotective coat that Cyrus had donned that morning. Vasco wished now that he had told him to wear full battle armor- none of them had expected this much resistance. None had expected Asili to have gone so mad.

Vasco stops when he sees the wound. His hands freeze and shake all at the same time.

De Sardet has already hooked his fingers into the frilly white collar at his throat and practically shredded the thing in an effort to get more air into his panicked lungs. The red froth bubbling forth from his lips darkening the brunet’s mustache even further.

“Hold on my Tempest, let me help-” Vasco’s wide gaze darts between the wound and Cyrus’s eyes, hoping to convey a sense of calm as he wipes away the blood that has started to roll down the legate’s chin and down the delicate throat that Vasco had laid wanton kisses on mere hours before.

Cyrus’s beloved coat was well beyond repair already and Vasco feels no shame in the way he snaps away the buttons and rips the white dress shirt beneath it away from the wound. The first pang of dread hits Vasco in the chest like a physical blow. Like a church bell. Like a war hammer. 

Vasco is far from frozen by his fear, a lifetime at sea fending off attacks from pirates had given him plenty of practice for this. Being a Captain, especially a young one, had shown him more than his fair share of battle wounds and dead sailors. That being said, the sharp twist of fear wound itself tight in his gut, and even as Cyrus managed to drag one shaky breath in without the restrictive clothing, Vasco felt it tighten with each ensuing cough that wreaked havoc through his lover’s body.

Aphra dug through her pouches and bags, looking for anything that might help. She muttered to herself. Bottles and papers and all manner of things rolled around on the floor as she searched for something. 

“No, no- can’t use just a healing potion, it’ll seal the shot inside...” She squinted at the label on a pink bottle but discarded it quickly, “If the shot is inside too long he’ll get lead poisoning or an infection… But if I do nothing he’ll bleed out,” She pulled out a notebook and flipped frantically to a specific page, scanning the writing as she said under her breath, “or suffocate on the blood filling his lungs…” She snapped the book shut and threw it haphazardly back in her bag. She had to think of something. She was the closest thing they had to a healer right now with Cyrus out of commission.

The list of possible ways in which Cyrus could be killed by this wound filled her head and Aphra took a steadying breath, standing slowly and taking one step back. Vasco paid her no mind.

Aphra was a scientist, she knew not the nuances of healing, only the basics. Her specialty laid with flora and fauna of Teer Fradee, not with human anatomy. She held one potion in each hand, indecision and lack of experience stopping her dead. Cyrus coughed and spat a mouthful of blood on the floor.

“Vasco, I-“

“-If you can’t help, go find Siora.” Vasco snapped. He shrugged out of his coat, throwing his pauldron aside. He didn’t look at Aphra as he attempted to staunch the bleeding with his own coat and hands. “Quickly!” He cried as he finally looked her in the eye.

Aphra sprinted away without looking back. 

Vasco snarls under his breath, praying for Aphra and cursing her in equal measure. He can only watch as the fine blue of Cyrus’s coat is slowly turned purple by the pinpricks of scattershot from the rifle. Finds himself tearing the coat away further to expose the wound- wincing at the way the shot has already bruised what it has not bloodied. Even if Cyrus had been wearing proper armor today, the bruising the rifle had left would certainly have knocked even Kurt to his knees. It was no wonder that Cyrus was out of breath. Vasco pressed his coat hard into Cyrus’s wound but received a pained groan that was far too weak for his liking.

Cyrus gave another series of convulsing coughs, so violent this time that Vasco had to help him sit up and lean to the side to spit out blood, which sprayed across the already dark-stained earth. Vasco was only glad he couldn’t tell just how much Cyrus had surely lost already.

Cyrus fell back weakly against Vasco and took short, shallow breaths, eyes searching sightlessly. Despite the wound, the color was running high in Cyrus’s pale cheeks as if he had a fever, and Vasco wasn’t sure if that was a good sign as Cyrus’s eyelids fluttered. Vasco reapplied pressure to the wound but all Cyrus did in response was let out a weak whimper.

“Cyrus please stay awake, please, I-” He cut himself off before he could utter a distressed sound of his own. Cyrus needed his strength. Crying would help nothing. He shoved his emotions aside to be dealt with when they were safe.

The Naut found himself at a loss for words, or at least words of substance. Absentmindedly he began chattering on, telling Cyrus that he would be alright, that he loved him, that everyone needed him- that he needed him. That they would sail together, Cyrus had promised that Vasco would once again captain the Sea-Horse, and Vasco meant to hold him to his word. That he would take Cyrus to the edge of the sea itself as soon as he could. He prattled on about treasures they would find and what the Naut island was like. That together they would find a cure for the Malichor. That he wanted Cyrus to be there when they found it.

Cyrus took one gloved hand and circled it weakly about Vasco’s bare wrist. Vasco’s hands trembled. Vasco had at some point fisted both of his hands in his own ruined coat, and even as he drowned in his own blood Cyrus smiled softly at him. It would have been a beautiful expression if those lips were not such an unnatural shade of red, or if the blood at the corners of his mouth had not made two thin rivers that flowed down either side of his chin.

Cyrus could not speak, was too weak to even draw a real breath as he mouthed the words, but Vasco knew what he was trying to say.

“No!” Vasco cried out, then screamed Cyrus’s name as the wounded man coughed once more and then stiffened. Cyrus’s whole body jerked taught as a bow string and his eyes rolled back in his head, a silent scream issuing from berry-stained lips. Cyrus’s body was unable to cope with the lack of oxygen paired with the pain of having tiny metal balls buried in his lungs and his whole body seized with stress. Vasco had never seen it before. He didn’t know what to do. Cyrus had told him once that when he becomes too anxious his mind sends his body into fits of bewitchment but never had Vasco even dreamed-

Vasco’s voice continued to rise and crack, screaming for Cyrus to try and bring him back as he wrestled to keep the man from bashing his head against the stone floor, from snapping those delicate fingers or breaking his own neck. Even as Cyrus’s uncontrolled movements battered Vasco himself the captain did not let go. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, I’ve-”

Cyrus went limp so suddenly that Vasco didn’t have time to process what had happened. He felt the tears streaming down his face but didn’t dare take his grip off Cyrus. Cyrus wasn’t breathing.

“Cyrus?” He breathed, chest tight.

“...Cyrus-!” His fingers flew to Cyrus’s pulse at the lack of response-

And Vasco released a sobbing breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Still alive. Just barely, but still alive. Cyrus’s weakened breaths were slower now, as if he were asleep. Both of their hearts were fluttering chaotically in their chests. Blood was still pouring forth from where the shot had pierced Cyrus’s chest and was now beginning to stain Vasco’s clothes as well. The gun had not made a hole all the way through but the blood that had not been absorbed by Vasco’s coat was sliding down Cyrus’s rib cage until it met with the material of Vasco’s breeches. Vasco pressed against the wound again with both hands. Cyrus did not respond.

Vasco’s grip softened, but he pulled Cyrus closer, held the other man higher, practically draping him across his own chest now so that he could try and apply better pressure to the wound. Cyrus issued a weak groan from where his head now lay on Vasco’s shoulder, puffs of breath in the crook of Vasco’s neck let him know that Cyrus was still alive. 

“Hold fast, my Tempest, hold fast.” Vasco took the groan as a good sign.

Wherever Aphra had gone she needed to get back here now.

Vasco wondered if he could afford to wait for her or if he should try to carry Cyrus closer to the mouth of the cave. At the very least, he could-

The approach of bootsteps halted his train of thought.

Vasco snatched his pistol off the ground and pointed it steadfastly at the tall man that had appeared behind him. He hadn’t noticed his approach but he could see him clearly now in the light of torches held by men who flanked him. Vasco’s blood ran cold.

Doctor Asili looked at the Naut and the Legate with a predatory glint in his eye- one that made the knot of fear in Vasco’s belly tighten even further. Asili cocked his head to the side as if studying them. With a growl Vasco cocked the hammer on his gun. Asili took a single step closer. Vasco’s pistol clicked but nothing came out. 

He had emptied it into the man who shot Cyrus and hadn’t bothered reloading. A rookie mistake.

“How rude of you.” Asili said flatly. Vasco bared his teeth in response.

Asili’s men moved forward in a flash- the ones not holding torches grabbed Vasco roughly by the arms. Vasco hissed like a cat and fought to keep himself free, only to be jerked roughly away from Cyrus and practically thrown at Asili’s feet. Vasco winced at the sound that Cyrus’s skull made as it impacted against the ground but refused to show Asili any weakness. He didn’t even let his relief show when he heard Cyrus groan weakly and roll onto his side as if to protect himself. Vasco was quite certain that Cyrus wasn’t even conscious at this point. Both of them being guided solely by animal instinct in the face of danger.

“Don’t you hurt him you bastards.” Vasco threatened. He went to stand only to have one of his arms wrenched roughly behind his back.

Even as Vasco fought and managed to get one hand free, his bloodied grip slipped as he tried to draw his sword- making it that much easier for Asili’s men to knock the weapon from his grip. Truly defenceless now, his eyes wide with a new kind of panic, Vasco hissed and struggled as both of his arms were wrenched behind his back again until finally he stilled. His hat had fallen off at some point and several strands of hair had come loose to hang around his face. He breathed heavily but could not struggle further without his arm getting popped out of socket.

Asili came forward and took Vasco’s jaw in an iron grip, staring into the Naut’s eyes even as Vasco glared and tried to shake his head free.

“Another Naut. I wonder how your data will compare to the rest.” Asili said, as if to himself.

“Bloody bastard, I’ll gut you!” Vasco spat in Asili’s face. His sword had been thrown to the ground but he still stood tall. In a last-ditch effort Vasco managed to jerk his face away and sank his teeth into the fleshy stretch of skin between Asili’s thumb and forefinger, satisfied when the good doctor let out a pained scream of his own. Vasco tried to kick the legs out from one of his captors and managed to strike one of the two holding him, but it was all in vain.

“Contain him!” Asili ordered harshly. 

Vasco’s shoulder gave an audible pop! as it was wrenched from its socket and he cried out in pain as he once more found himself kneeling on the ground- this time far less willingly. He growled again and spat Asili’s own blood back onto the doctor’s boots. Asili’s expression didn’t falter but Vasco would swear that he watched a set of iron doors close and lock in the depths of his evil eyes. Vasco was panting harshly now.

“Take him inside. I’ll be up shortly.” Asili said, motioning towards Vasco as he was handed a roll of gauze for his own injured hand. Vasco snarled and tried to break free again as the doctor turned to Cyrus’s prone form. 

“Don’t touch him! You can’t take me, I-”

The last thing Vasco saw before getting pistol-whipped was Asili’s back as he turned and leaned over Cyrus, smearing the blood from the corners of his lover’s lips and across his cheek as he roughly inspected the other man’s face- more specifically, the mark that spanned Cyrus’s jaw. The darkness spread through Vasco’s mind like a blanket but the terror moved through him like ice.

When Vasco came around again, he had a splitting headache. His mouth was dry. If not for the fact that he remembered quite clearly how he had gotten it, he might have voiced something about never drinking again. Cyrus would have been right next to him, probably nursing an even worse headache and laughing if this were a normal day. 

But this was not a normal day. He remembered Cyrus, he remembered Aphra running away, he remembered what they had already discovered about the man who now held them prisoner-

And when he finally opened his eyes, the horror at what this great man of science had become only filled him with more dread.

Vasco was shirtless, the tattoos that crawled down his neck and filigreed his torso on open display. His arms had been secured at the wrist to a wooden x-frame, his ankles similarly restrained. Thankfully it appeared that Vasco was too tall for the intended purpose of the torture device, so the balls of his feet were still able to reach the floor. That didn’t stop him from being uncomfortable with how far apart his appendages were spread, how exposed he felt even though he was still mostly clothed.

He was covered in blood, but based on where it was he was fairly certain it was only Cyrus’s. Vasco took no comfort from that fact, seeing as the smears were practically as dark as his tattoo ink across his torso. He must have been out for some time, he thought.

Vasco’s fuzzy mind sharpened to a razor edge as he finally picked up his heavy head to look around.

Before him, three wooden tables stood in a room filled with blood-spattered horrors. Two of them held sheet-covered corpses.The third, the closest one to him, held Cyrus. Vasco felt rage and fear boiling in his veins, testing his restraints. 

“Cyrus! … Cyrus!” Heard himself call out, whispering the other man’s name urgently. There was no response. 

No response except for Asili’s curious gaze as he seemed to separate from the shadows themselves. “Why are you crying, Naut? I’ve not even begun on you yet.” Asili stated plainly, arms folded behind his back. He sounded like he was asking about the weather. 

Vasco tensed, angry tears rolled across his tattooed face but it just made him look all the more defiant- the only touch of emotion in a place so robbed of it. Asili wouldn’t know emotion if it stabbed him, Vasco decided.

“If you so much as lay a finger on him I’ll-“

Cold, calculating eyes glanced between the two men as Asili moved closer, closer- he gestured for an assistant to bring a candle closer as the ‘good’ doctor peered down at Cyrus on the table. The two men stood there for a long moment, Asili with a conflicted look on his face and the assistant looking drawn and haggard. A few other similar looking assistants wandered in and out of the room, but they paid Vasco no mind. Vasco felt disgust rise within him as each person carefully avoided his eyes. How many murders had they been privy to? How many of those voices haunted them in their sleep? More importantly- which faces did these monsters remember. Which ones had they already forgotten?

“If not for the fact that this man is one of my most valuable data points I would tell you to say your farewells now.” Asili said as he straightened and made eye contact with Vasco.

Vasco flung himself forward with new vigor even as his head continued to pound- his movements rocking the x-frame and bruising his own wrists. Even with his dislocated shoulder screaming at him, Vasco fought for his freedom.

“He’s not a ‘data point’ you demon his name is-” He shouted.

“Now now, settle down-”

“He is not an experiment and neither am I. None of the people you killed were!”

Asili sighed and motioned more of his henchmen forward from the darkness. 

“Who said I was done with you? Look at me!” Vasco fought his bonds so violently that he thought he heard the wood groan, “Look me in the eye you son of whore!”

That one hit a nerve if Asili’s face was any indication.

Vasco felt a pinch under one of his wrist restraints as he continued cursing the man out. He felt some measure of satisfaction at the fact that he was delaying Asili from hurting anyone else. Suddenly he saw Asili’s eyes lock on to him. He stared down his kidnapper as the man stalked closer, not knowing why that predatory gaze had latched onto him so intently but determined not to bow down all the same.

Vasco prickled with every slow, calculated step Asili took- trying to stand up taller even as this man towered over him. Trying to intimidate even as he felt the urge to shrink down and submit until help arrived. No matter what this man did to him, Vasco vowed to make sure that Cyrus didn’t have to endure the abuse that had befallen the bodies they had passed at the entrance. 

Asili’s gaze switched from Vasco’s scowl to his arm. With a quick glance, Vasco saw what had caught the man’s eye.

A thin, warm drop of blood that had collected itself into a sphere sat just at the edge of the manacle on Vasco’s wrist. As he watched the sphere grew, then rolled easily down Vasco’s arm. It caught briefly at his elbow, growing larger as the blood flow persisted, then continued on, rolling along his tricep, armpit, obliques- skittering down across his tattooed side until it was halted by the waistline of his trousers, where bright red blossomed against the darker stains from earlier.

“You have a strong heart, Naut.” Asili said, though not in a complementary way. Vasco tensed as his gaze went back to Cyrus- “Too bad you don’t have one of your own for comparison. Maybe you should add that as one of your ‘data points’. I’m sure it would be quite the scientific discovery if you could find a heart of your own.” Vasco snarled. What Vasco would give to try and break his hand against Asili’s face as the doctor’s eyes zeroed in on his bloody arm like a hungry shark. Cold, hungry, this man had no light in his eyes. Vasco had been at sea his entire life. He had been swimming alongside sharks more times than anyone would believe, yet he felt more fear standing before this man than he ever had been even next to the largest great whites. His anger was the only bulwark he had to keep the fear at bay. Vasco would not submit.

With a silent hand motion, Asili bade his assistant bring him… 

Something. 

“The bloody hell is that?” Vasco asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. The assistant spared him a single mournful look as she presented the apparatus to Asili.

Vasco had never seen anything like it before. A large needle with a long, thin tube trailing off of it and a container attached. Another assistant held something that Asili took and held in his hand for a moment. A muzzle. Vasco shook his head, turning side to side in resistance until the assistant rough took hold of him with a fistful of hair. Vasco hissed in pain but kept his teeth clenched tightly. Asili pressed the bit against Vasco’s teeth and nodded to the assistant, who pulled on Vasco’s hair until several strands ripped from his scalp and Asili was finally able to force the muzzle between his teeth at Vasco’s pained shout. Vasco sank his teeth into it and attempted to make noise despite the impediment, but no words came out. He huffed breath out of his nose but struggled to get air around the gag. The assistant continued to hold Vasco by his hair until Asili had finished securing the bit at the back of his head. Vasco felt his hair tie fall to the ground as he was finally released, puffing pained and angry breaths.

“Ensure that he is not able to remove the needle, we will need his blood for my next procedure.” Asili said. The assistant nodded and pulled a roll of gauze out of a bag at her hip, wrapping it around the needle and pinning it to Vasco.

With Vasco’s protests now muffled, the doctor went back to puttering around his lab. Cyrus wheezed and then coughed thickly from where he lay on the table. The first assistant, the one with the candle, made a surprised face and went to Cyrus. After checking his pulse, he gently turned the weak man onto his side. 

Despite the terror he still felt Vasco was thankful to know that Cyrus was still breathing, still might have a chance if Aphra made it back in time. That is, until he saw the amount of red that sluiced from Cyrus’s lips once he had been moved. Vasco took in the deathly pallor of his beloved’s face, and felt fear zing across his tongue like a blade. He struggled again, though this time he tried to relieve the pain in his dislocated shoulder by attempting to free his feet instead.

Asili was back all too quickly, and even as Vasco growled at him through the bit, he had to admit he wasn’t fully prepared when he felt the prick of a needle against his flesh. He tried to struggle, tried to fight, but the sharp sting had already found its place in his skin. As soon as it pierced him, blood began to flow out of Vasco and into the container attached to the other end of the tubing. 

This needle was nothing like the familiar tattoo needles, and Vasco instantly knew he hated it. He fought harder, thrashing to the point that the x-frame began to wobble. For a fraction of a second Vasco thought he might be able to escape if he just struggled enough, maybe he could break the frame if he knocked it to the floor-

But then there were thick, heavy fingers gripping his throat tight. He tried to kick Asili but his ankles were bound. The trickle of blood from his wrist grew thicker as he again tried to free his hands. He knew he couldn’t free himself from that grip but he also couldn’t resist the animalistic part of his brain telling him to either fight or flee.

“You will not ruin a perfectly good experiment.” Asili scolded him as if Vasco were a small child who had stolen a cookie before dinner. The grip on his throat tightened further, forcing Vasco to suck in air too quickly through his nose, his teeth sinking deeply into the bit. He started to panic but Vasco, like any good Naut, knew how to hold his breath. 

He waited and saw how it frustrated Asili and smiled around the bit in his mouth. He almost let out a chuckle at the perplexed look on the doctor’s face when he realized that Vasco wasn’t getting lightheaded as most people would, being forced to breathe through their nose with a constricted airway. The cold, methodical curiosity that Vasco saw next should have scared him, but his only thoughts were that if he could keep Asili focused on him, he might not hurt Cyrus. 

Still gripping his throat with one hand, Asili pulled back with the other hand and sucker punched Vasco below the ribs, where there was nothing to protect his organs from the blows. Vasco grunted as the air he had been holding was driven from his lungs, panicking in earnest when he was unable to draw in more. Asili smiled at that, at the way Vasco’s adam’s apple convulsed beneath Asili’s fingers. 

Asili let up, just slightly, just enough for the sailor to draw a half-breath, before his grip tightened and that other fist slammed down again. And again. The process repeated so many times that Vasco wasn’t sure if he passed out at some point, but he fought to stay awake as much as he could. Asili was bearing down on Vasco so heavily that he could feel the x-frame itself leaning back at an angle into the wall behind him, his toes barely skittering across the floor as he tried to stay conscious. He knew if he fainted Asili would move on to Cyrus next. He couldn’t let that happen. But he couldn’t breathe. The short gasps he managed to drag in between punches were only just barely enough to-

Another blow landed, cutting off his thoughts. Vasco gave one last, almost pitiable grunt, and Asili finally let the Naut pull in one- two- three full breaths. Vasco drank the air greedily, unable to help himself. He panted around the gag and gave Asili the most venomous glare he could, his hair wild about his face and the tattoos deepening his snarl.

“You’ve more fight in you than most of your kind.” Asili said thoughtfully, jotting something down in his notebook. Asili was not yet done with Vasco. He shut his journal and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Those shark-like eyes looked at Vasco and all he could see was his own face reflected back at him.

With a cold tidal wave of devastation, Vasco felt his mind white out with terror. He felt both of Asili’s hands come up to his neck, their grip tightening to the point where Vasco could no longer pull the air around him into his lungs at all. Vasco was completely cut off. His eyes widened and with what little free movement he was able to use, he rose up on his toes and hurled his weight from one wrist to the other, throwing his weight in an attempt to dislodge those murderous hands, but he couldn’t. He was getting light headed. Asili meant to kill him this time and Vasco knew it. He could feel each individual finger like a brand against his skin. At least before he had been able to breathe between punches. He’d even had a little bit of air in his now bruised lungs before the encounter began. He had been able to get air when the hand on his throat lost it’s concentration and Asili focussed more on the beating, but this… With Asili’s full attention now on Vasco’s breathing he couldn’t-

Vasco vision darkened abruptly, as if he had gone blind. He felt his lungs burn and he gasped through his nose but the air that he did manage to pull into his mouth never made it to his throat, cut off completely by Asili’s powerful grip. He could hear himself growling and screaming but Asili did not waver. Spots burst painfully in Vasco’s eyes and he couldn’t tell if the darkness that clawed at him was from lack of blood flow, oxygen, or if his eyes had rolled back in his head as he tried to escape.

Suddenly Asili stepped back. Vasco felt like he was being gutted. All the air he had fought so hard to pull in hit his lungs at once- like daggers of ice. He would have screamed if he were able, the feeling was so intense. With nothing to run away from Vasco’s entire being went limp in relief. His vision slowly came back to him and blood rushed loudly in his ears. Cyrus and Vasco were wracked by coughs at the same moment, both struggling for air. Asili finally backed away from Vasco’s now-submissive form. Vasco’s eyes tried to focus on Asili as the doctor moved towards Cyrus again, but Vasco’s gaze fell towards the floor as the rest of him went fully slack against his restraints. 

Vasco dazedly watched his own blood flow out of him with no small amount of fear, and was distantly worried by just how quickly the vessel was filling with his blood. He might be slain by this man yet. He had nearly forgotten about the… whatever the hell it was. The spike in his heart rate from Asili’s beating had probably helped to fill it. Whatever it was for, Vasco dreaded finding out. Cyrus coughed and splattered the floor between where he lay and where Vasco sagged. The color of the blood was nearly black. That seemed to get Asili’s full attention.

The doctor bent over Cyrus. He pushed Cyrus so that the man was once again flat on his back, only for the coughing to violently take hold of him again. Asili didn’t look nearly as alarmed as his assistant had before, but he very quickly shifted Cyrus back onto his side, lessening the hacking coughs. Vasco was no doctor but he took some small amount of relief in the fact that it seemed like Asili was trying to ease Cyrus’s suffering. Why would he try and keep De Sardet alive though? What could he possibly want with Cyrus?

And then another thought filtered into his mind-

What if by distracting Asili, Vasco had actually brought Cyrus closer to death’s door? Vasco struggled briefly upright at that thought before his weakness overtook him again.

Asili moved with the hands of an expert- cutting away Cyrus’s coat and the shirt beneath it was skilled hands- though Vasco would be lying if he said that watching the butcherous doctor get so close to Cyrus with his blades didn’t elicit another, weaker, growl from him. Asili glanced up once but paid Vasco no further mind. Vasco was no longer a play thing Asili enjoyed.

Cyrus continued breathing as best he could, Vasco tensing each time the Legate’s cough returned. After a moment more of observation, the doctor left Cyrus alone on the table. Vasco relaxed for a moment but tensed again when Asili came back with a very, very large needle. 

This one, unlike the one that Vasco had been pricked with, had an even fatter tube attached to one end and a plunger within the tube. It was much shorter as well, but still about the length of Vasco’s hand from wrist to fingertip. With great assurity Doctor Asili counted each of Cyrus’s ribs along his side with practiced, sure movements. He easily found what he was looking for with a light touch- apparently trying not to further aggravate Cyrus’s condition. He did not hesitate even as he lifted up the needle, not even as Vasco began to protest loudly once more, and fitted it in between Cyrus’s ribs like a rogue’s clever blade.

Cyrus gave a twinge at the intrusion of the needle, but the only other sound he made after that was one of relief. The plunger moved, and somehow, some way, Cyrus was able to pull a full breath. Vasco felt tears of relief this time as he watched Cyrus draw one even breath, and then another, the next stuttering cough far easier than the ones before it. 

Vasco felt his own chest loosen as he watched Cyrus breathe. He let out a weak, stuttering sob of his own. He didn’t know if Cyrus could hear him, but he tried to say his name, over and over through the bit like it was the only thing anchoring him to his sanity. With how addled his mind was, Vasco thought it very well might be. He still couldn’t hear well. It was like the whole world was a step outside of himself. He hardly felt like a part of his own body any more.

Whatever awful horrors had transpired in this room up until now, Vasco could only be thankful to the poor soul that had given their life so that Asili might save Cyrus now. In the same breath he cursed himself for thinking it, and cursed Asili for his cruel, remorseless heart. He hated that so many people had met their deaths in this room, that he had very nearly been counted among them just now. He hated Asili for his mind full of ill-gotten knowledge. He hated that he was thankful for the death of a single person, but most of all he hated himself for not having reloaded his fucking gun. Vasco could only watch as this man touched his lover, could only sit and be used as his own blood left his body for the doctor’s experiment.

The first container that Vasco had been attached to was now filled and the assistant pulled it away. The gauze was removed and the needle came out effortlessly. Vasco was relieved, for a moment, but then he felt the rough, less experienced jab of a second needle and could only watch as his blood rushed to fill yet another vessel. With a weak grunt of protest, Vasco watched as the first container was carried over to Asili, who was in the process of rolling Cyrus onto his back and tying him down to the wooden table with thick leather straps. Vasco may not know a lot about medicine but he knew for a fact that he needed his own blood inside his body. He swallowed thickly, taking careful breaths as the bruising along his torso began to make itself known. Was this Asili’s plan? Was he going to slowly bleed Vasco to death? What would this data teach him? 

Vasco forced himself to stand, his shoulders screaming from having supported his weight for so long. He would not submit. He just needed to… to- 

Vasco felt his mind come up empty.

He had no idea what to do. He was so far beyond his depth. 

Cyrus was pulling larger breaths now, but gasping like a fish out of water. The entire lower half of his face was now smeared with blood of every shade and Vasco wished with all his heart that he could hold that face in his hands, that he could wash the blood away with a warm rag and lay kiss after gentle kiss upon that furrowed, pained brow. That those beautiful eyes were able to focus on him instead of staring up blankly at the ceiling. That they were in his cabin on board the Sea-Horse, off to find the treasures of the world. Wishful thinking indeed.

The doctor motioned to have more candles set up strategically around his patient, pulling out various knives, tweezers, and metal dishes and setting them out beside Cyrus. The last thing that was brought over was the vessel that now held Vasco’s blood, this time with a clean needle and unbloodied tubing running from the needle to the container. Vasco tensed again and leaned forward against his bonds, determined to keep Asili from stealing Cyrus’s blood. He rose up quickly in defiance, ready to make another scene that would draw the doctor over, only to immediately have a wave of dizziness impact him with such force that, had he not been restrained, he likely would have fallen face-first to the floor. “Shit.” He thought to himself. 

The blood he had put into those containers had taken all his fight out with it. Now he could only watch as Asili wiped clean a patch of skin on Cyrus’s bare elbow and slid the thick needle into the crook of it. Within moments Vasco’s blood was draining into Cyrus, which… Honestly, Vasco didn’t know what to make of that information.

Asili was taking down notes in a cluttered-looking notebook, observing Cyrus and circling the table like a wolf. He didn’t so much as glance at Vasco again, his focus locked onto the Legate. The way he moved was predatory. Hunting for answers, hunting for prey- to this man there was no difference. He scrapped a blade under one of Cyrus’s fingernails, took a small scrape sample of the mark along the man’s jaw. Counted with a watch in hand as Cyrus struggled to breath again, then wrote down even more notes after he had done whatever procedure he did when he used that large needle between Cyrus’s ribs.

Vasco watched as the first of the vessels of his own blood emptied into Cyrus, and while Vasco himself was still woozy from having it stolen, he was glad that it at least seemed to be doing Cyrus some good. Asili was giving orders now but Vasco wasn’t focusing on them. He doubted he would understand the strange way doctors spoke to each other anyway.

The assistant came back and removed the second, now filled, vessel of blood and whisked the whole apparatus away- this time pressing down on the spot where the needle had pierced him until the bleeding stopped. Vasco hoped that this meant he wouldn’t be part of some dark experiment after all. If Asili had simply asked Vasco to help Cyrus, Vasco would have gladly volunteered, no questions asked. There were so many others like Vasco out there. Those that wanted to find cures for the Malichor, those who also sought answers. Asili didn’t need to force people to be his lab rats… Instead this brilliant man had resorted to treacherous means and Vasco knew that it would cost Asili his head. It was almost sad.

The assistant brought the second container of blood over to the good doctor, who pushed the needle into the junction of Cyrus’s elbow again and tipped the container upside-down so that Vasco’s blood flowed into Cyrus’s veins once more. The original vessel was whisked away deeper into the lab.

Vasco felt tired. Exhausted. He had no fight left in him. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure if he should keep fighting. Asili, for whatever reason, was helping Cyrus. Vasco could see him pulling the small metal balls out of his lovers chest by candle light, could see him packing the wound as he went and using that large needle in between Cyrus’s ribs again each time the man started to struggle to breathe. Vasco’s eyelids drooped, he could barely keep them open it seemed.

“Stay awake! You know what happens if you sleep!” A voice in the back of Vasco’s mind reminded him.

Vasco forced his eyes open harshly, forced himself to stand on his weak feet even though he felt leaden weights pulling on his eyelids and limbs. His throat was parched and he would give anything for a glass of water. His pain didn’t seem like much of a priority when Cyrus still lay dying on a table not five feet in front of him.

Finally, finally, Vasco heard the tell-tale sounds of their companions. It felt like the world outside this hellish room had simply ceased to exist until that moment. The explosion of grenades, the shouting of Siora’s strange words, and Kurt’s heavy sword resounding against armor as he plowed through enemy lines. Between one blink and the next, Asili had locked himself into his office and the assistants had vanished. Vasco tugged weakly against his bonds, more awake than he had felt in what seemed like years as their friends thundered up the stairs.

Cyrus lay prone on the table, his torso only half-wrapped in bandages. Asili had finished his strange procedure, apparently. Cyrus still had the needle with Vasco’s blood trickling into him in place and the heavy leather straps still held him securely- though he hadn’t so much as twitched while the shot pellets were being removed from his chest. Vasco watched, relieved as Siora lifted a potion to Cyrus’s lips and muttered her magic over his wounds- closing them and letting Cyrus take the cleanest breath he had taken all day. She curiously pulled the needle from his skin and seemed surprised by the rush of blood that fell to the floor, causing her to drop the needle. She ignored it and went about releasing the straps from her friend. Cyrus was pulling in breaths almost violently now, like a hare that had just escaped a fox.

“But that’s exactly what just happened, isn’t it? He just doesn’t know it.” Vasco thought sardonically. Cyrus had slept through the entire ordeal. He would recover as quickly as his wounds. Vasco would be the one to deal with the fall out. Vasco almost thought he might be jealous.

Meanwhile, Kurt was using his sword to try and break down Asili’s door, his anger blinding him. Vasco couldn’t fault the man for it, having been both witness and victim to the ordeal. Vasco would laugh at the hot-tempered company that Cyrus seemed to keep. If not for Kurt, they probably would never have been able to get the doctor out of his office, since Cyrus was the only one among them who knew how to pick locks. The door was reduced to splinters in seconds, with a cowering Asili on the other side. Vasco felt a rush of satisfaction at the meek look on the man’s face as he was literally booted from his own office.

With Siora tending to Cyrus and Kurt handling Asili, that left Aphra to free Vasco. She had tears of remorse in her eyes as she came closer. The young scientist had never been good at voicing her emotions but she tried to tell Vasco how she felt with her eyes as she unfastened his ankles first. She didn’t have a key, just a blade with a hammer that shattered the locking mechanism. With a deep groan Vasco pulled his weary legs underneath him. His shaky knees bore his weight, but only just. Aphra freed his wrist next, the manacle coming apart with a soft click.

As soon as he was free Vasco’s legs truly gave out. His full weight was being held by his other still-secured wrist, and he hissed at the painful new way the cuffs now dug into his skin, into his bones. The x frame toppled alongside him and Vasco ended up sprawled across the floor, pinned by his wrist. He barely had the energy to cry out at the new pain. Kurt heaved the X frame off him but then quickly went back to securing Asili. 

Vasco curled in on himself on the scrubbed tile floor. As he looked he saw that his wrists bore the marks of his struggling. Vasco wondered idly if the feeling of that pressure, that inescapable weight would leave when the bruises faded. He brought a hand up to his own throat and wondered if that feeling would fade as well. Right now all he felt was the cold and a certain degree of numbness.

Aphra let out some kind of sound that Vasco couldn’t define and didn’t really care to. Aphra had tried to slow Vasco’s fall, but despite her many strengths she wasn’t quite able to support the weight of a full-grown man and a heavy wooden frame. With a final grunt Vasco used shaking fingers to unfasten the contraption in his mouth. 

Vasco closed his eyes and worked his jaw, enjoying the coolness of the floor. His skin felt too hot and too clammy even to himself- what a wonder that he felt anything at all. Vasco wished for sleep. And water.

Siora still fluttered about near Cyrus, pulling him free of his restraints and chanting healing magic over him until it seemed to Vasco that the other man was breathing normally again. He kept his eyes closed and was aware of Aphra asking questions, but he couldn’t tell if they were aimed at him or someone else in the room. Cyrus was alright, and that was all Vasco really cared about in the end. Vasco let his eyes open to see what was going on.

Asili stood in the center of his crimes. Kurt had his sword at the ready in case the criminal tried to run. Aphra was tying Asili’s wrists behind his back and when she was finished Kurt moved to help Vasco stand.

It took him a moment, but while leaning heavily on Kurt, Vasco managed to keep his feet under himself. His bad shoulder was definitely still dislocated. His struggling had not made it any better, surprise surprise. Kurt went to adjust his grip and his hand grazed something sensitive on Vasco’s ribs, causing the captain to let out a brief, breathless cry.

“What did you do to them?” Siora cried, words from her own language flowing from her lips as she moved away from a soundly sleeping Cyrus and over to Vasco instead. She must have been too intent upon Cyrus to notice Vasco until now. Siora’s words created a balm against Vasco’s pain and he felt himself sag against Kurt. Asili’s jaw moved but no words came out. Aphra slapped him anyway. Vasco wasn’t sure if Asili had actually spoken or if he just couldn’t hear anyone over the relief that Siora was soaking him in. He felt so tired.

Siora’s hands felt like water where they touched against his ribs, and Vasco realized with a start that he was covered in more bruises than he had thought, the skin so dark in some places that Vasco’s tattoos all but disappeared. He definitely had at least one broken rib. 

Despite the lightness of Siora’s touch and her soothing words, Vasco let out a whimper as the pain once again knocked him off his shaky feet. Kurt struggled to hold him upright. Siora looked around, probably trying to find a table to lay him on, but every other surface of the room was covered in those that were already dead or with medical equipment. 

With no where else to tend to him, Siora asked Kurt to lower Vasco back down to the floor. Kurt lowered Vasco down as gently as he could, but every small movement brought a fresh wave of pain across Vasco’s already frayed nerves- especially his still dislocated shoulder, which at least now had the relief of not bearing all of Vasco’s weight.

The cold ground was a relief against the fevered skin of his back, and Vasco groaned softly this time. All three of them exchanged worried glances. He heard the three of them conversing quietly, whispering harshly between them but he could not make out the words. Finally, Siora made eye contact with him. Vasco’s drained eyes fixed on her face, the face that bore the mirror to the mark on Cyrus’s. She knelt down and held a potion bottle to his lips. He drank greedily despite the bitter taste. He was so parched that the thick sludge almost got stuck on it’s way down and she had to help him sit upright to avoid choking on it. Aphra fetched a glass of water and Vasco drank that so quickly he nearly choked a second time.

Vasco felt a gentle warmth radiating through him. This time he didn’t fall back into sleep so much as it dragged his eyelids shut, lulling him beneath it’s dark, soothing depths. He could hardly keep his eyes open before and now the task was nearly impossible with the relief he felt from the potion. He felt Siora and Aphra lift him onto their shoulders. He noted distantly that whatever was in the potion has made all his injuries go numb- even his shoulder. He was coherent enough to try and help them keep moving, but for all the skill he portrayed he might as well have been a brand-new cabin boy during his first rough storm at sea. 

He didn’t know what direction they were moving in, or even why they were moving him at all, but he knew his shoulder still screamed each time he stumbled unexpectedly and that every time he bumped into something he let out another drunken groan. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to see Cyrus. He wanted to sleep. But Cyrus wasn’t safe yet. They had to get home.

He saw doubles as he did so but he forced himself to keep his eyes open, to take slower, more steady footsteps as the girls led him away from the lab. He saw Kurt walking ahead of them with Cyrus draped across his arms, the Legate’s head resting against the mercenary’s chest so that Vasco could see his disheveled hair and the top of his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Vasco focused on that, on Kurt’s strong silhouette as he guided them out of the darkness and back into the blinding day.

~~~~~

Cyrus was only aware in flashes.

The first flash was when his head struck hard ground. He heard Vasco yelling and some type of scuffle, but all he could do was roll to his side and try to defend his ruined ribs.

The second flash was when he heard someone yelling “Don’t touch him!” Who? Was Cyrus touching someone? Was someone touching him? There was a hard table beneath him now. There were muffled screams and the sound of blows landing but Cyrus was too disoriented to process them. His face felt sticky but he didn’t know why. He didn’t have the strength to wipe it away anyway.

Another flash came through and this time Cyrus forced his eyes open, his head to the side. The image was seared into his mind forever.

Vasco hung so limply against his restraints that Cyrus truly feared that he was dead. The only thing holding back his long hair was something strapped harshly into his mouth. He had a trail of blood running from one arm all the way down and his shoulder was very obviously popped out of socket. He could already see the color change of bruises all over Vasco’s torso. The Naut’s head was hung low. Cyrus tried to say his name. He tried to move his hand to reach out for his love. All that came out instead was another cough and another wave of darkness washed over him at the pain of it.

The next flash was when something thin jabbed him sharply between the ribs. He felt himself twitch away from the sharp bite but whatever it was, he felt himself finally take a full breath. Blessed air filled his lungs like rain quenching drought-wrought ground. He felt his mind become clearer but pain kept his mind occupied rather than letting him become aware once more.

The fifth time was the briefest of them all. He heard Siora speaking her magic to him. His eyes fell closed and did not open again as her healing washed over him.

The last time was when he felt himself being carried. His eyes were still shut but he could feel cold armor beneath his cheek. “Vas…?” He croaked softly. “He’s right behind us, sir. Don’t you fret, we’ll fix you both right up when we get home.” Kurt’s voice soothed softly. The image from before flitted into his mind. Cyrus was just thankful Vasco was alive. He struggled for a moment, intent to try and catch a look at the Naut but his strength was practically nothing to Kurt even when he wasn’t wounded. “Kurt?” Cyrus half-whispered when he finally stopped resisting Kurt’s hold. “Someone hurt Vasco, Kurt.”

“Don’t worry Greenblood, we caught him. He’ll not be hurting anyone else ever again.” Kurt growled deeply. Cyrus felt his mind drift away at that. When he was well again, he was going to end whoever had done those horrible things to Vasco.

~~~~~ 

When Vasco came to again, he was in more familiar surroundings. Cyrus’s bed was the softest thing Vasco had ever laid on. Between the lazy light filtering through the windows and the scent of Cyrus’s skin still on the sheets, Vasco didn’t even need to open his eyes to know where he was. He took stock of himself slowly. 

His broken rib and bruised torso were bandaged tightly- though not so tightly that it aggravated his injuries. His shoulder had apparently been set at some point. He was briefly glad he hadn’t been conscious for that. The dislocation no longer a bother but his arm practically tied down across his torso to keep him from moving the joint. The hand not tied to him with bandages drifted up to his throat and felt at the tenderness there. He winced and pulled his hand back. He cracked one eye open just a sliver, lifting up his wrist to take a better look at the cuts and bruises the manacles had made. Just from the look of it Vasco knew that the one cut on his wrist would leave a scar behind. He dreaded the day someone asked for the story behind it. He felt like he’d been keelhauled and then reeled back in.

With a soft sigh he opened his other eye, blinking to help himself adjust to the warm light of the room. He noted that he was in a pair of clean, loose trousers now and wondered who exactly had dressed him. He decided not to dwell on that thought for too long.

“Vas?” Cyrus’s deep baritone asked from beside him.

“‘M ‘ere.” Vasco mumbled. His tongue was thick and his throat was so dry that his voice cracked. He wasn’t sure if he was telling Cyrus that he was here, or asking for the other man to come closer, but either way Vasco was happy with the result. Gentle fingers cupped one side of his face and Vasco brought his hand up to lay across the one on his cheek. He felt digits that were not his own trembling where they laid.

“How long ‘ve I b’n out?” Vasco tried again but his mouth still wasn’t cooperating. His eye fell shut again, still heavy. It occurred to him suddenly that maybe his voice was misbehaving because of the bruising to his throat.

“I’m not sure. Everything is… fuzzy. Siora has come in to heal us both twice now. She said to tell you to rest if you woke before she came again.”

It was a testament to just how exhausted Vasco was that the Captain simply nodded. He was normally a terrible patient. Cyrus pressed a worried kiss above Vasco’s brow. As gently as he could, Cyrus traced his fingers along the marks on Vasco’s face- waiting patiently for the other man to open both of his green-gold eyes again.

When he did at last open them, the sight that laid before Vasco took his breath away- this time in a good way.

Cyrus laid next to him, the blood that had once stained his chin and torso had been wiped away with barely a trace left. His hair, normally so well groomed and cleanly parted, was thoroughly mussed up from sleep. His mustache and goatee were flattened on one side, as if he’d been curled up on his side and the pillow had pushed them askew. His torso was wrapped in pristine white bandages, and he didn’t look like he was having any trouble breathing now. This last part had Vasco desperately reaching out to grab some part of Cyrus- any part- just to make sure he was real. He knotted their fingers together and Cyrus smiled at him with tears collecting in the corners of his own eyes.

With his other hand the diplomat’s thumb grazed feather-light over the bruise on Vasco’s face. The one from where he had been pistol-whipped, Vasco remembered. Vasco winced at the tenderness but leaned into Cyrus’s touch before the Legate could pull his hand away. “Don’ stop.” He explained, “I’m not convinced you’re real yet.” Vasco chuckled softly. He watched the love and concern he felt mirror itself in Cyrus’s eyes, felt his own heart clench when he saw the pain that crossed those same eyes when they darted down to look at Vasco’s undoubtedly black and blue throat.

“You took a beating from Asili for me, didn’t you?” Cyrus whispered breathlessly as he took in the extent of Vasco’s pain. Vasco swallowed thickly but did not respond. How could he ever voice the awful experience, how could he put that pain upon Cyrus? Vasco decided that he would never tell him. Cyrus had been asleep the whole time. There was no need for him to be scarred by Asili as well.

“Oh Captain, my Captain- whatever shall I do with you?” Cyrus asked, anyone else would have missed the watery tone to it, would have brushed aside the way that Cyrus so plainly felt, but Vasco saw through his clever words. He pulled Cyrus down for a soft, slow kiss. The antithesis to all that had transpired against them. The kiss was chaste and loving. It was morning glories sprouting for the new day. It was the salt in the breeze laying thickly against their skin. It was home. 

Vasco squeezed Cyrus tightly against him for the briefest of moments before the ache in his chest became too much and he had to, mournfully, push Cyrus away. “Jus’ love me, my Tempest. Tha’s all I ask.” He kissed each of Cyrus’s knuckles tenderly. “Mmn. ‘Wish I could hold you.” Vasco said softly. 

“My darling, I think it’s time I looked after you for once.” Cyrus breathed. Slowly, carefully, Cyrus leaned Vasco’s exhausted body upright- mindful as Cyrus could be of both of their injuries- settling himself between Vasco and the headboard of the bed. Cyrus’s legs were now splayed out on either side of Vasco. He looped his arms loosely around his Captain’s body, pulling him closer and keeping them both sitting up straight while still being careful of Vasco’s bandaged arm. Once settled, Cyrus reached over to the bedside table and handed Vasco a glass of water. At first Vasco’s arm was too weak to take the cup, but with a little assistance Vasco drained it, thankful for the relief it brought his dry throat. With a sigh Vasco let his head fall forward between his shoulders, hunching over himself rather than leaning back.

Vasco was wary of Cyrus’s injuries, especially since he would be leaning quite a lot of his weight directly against Cyrus’s wound if he laid back. He was just thinking that maybe he should ask Cyrus to lay them both down again when Cyrus’s gentle fingers began to card themselves through Vasco’s long hair. Cyrus slowly massaged at his scalp, taking away the pain that still lingered where his hair had been yanked out. With a soft sigh Vasco leaned into the soft touch, slowly coaxed back until his head lay in the crook of Cyrus’s shoulder. Vasco felt exhaustion sink into him once more and his eyelids became impossible to keep open.

“I’ll keep watch for you, my love. Go back to sleep.”

Vasco needn’t be told twice. He settled back against Cyrus, puffing small breaths against Cyrus’s neck. Spent and safe in the circle of Cyrus’s arms, Vasco drifted back to blessed sleep.

Cyrus would have a talk with Vasco about not trying to get yourself murdered by evil scientists when he was well again. For now, they both needed rest, and to a certain degree he was almost thankful that Vasco had been too out of it for a proper conversation. What he saw was seared into his mind forever. Cyrus could never possibly thank Vasco enough for what he had done for him. He pressed a soft kiss to Vasco’s uninjured temple.

“Vasco?” Cyrus asked. Vasco gave a small noise of acknowledgement. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Vasco breathed out.

Cyrus felt a twinge in his chest that had nothing to do with being shot and pressed more kisses along Vasco’s skin, softly so as not to bother him. He wanted to drag the other man closer and show him everything he deserved, all the love that he could ever hope to pour into someone so giving. Instead, Cyrus kept his arms loose, gently twisting Vasco’s hair between his fingers and he felt the both of them at last drifting off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't totally clear during my writing Cyrus is being treated for the bullet wound but also for a collapsed lung. The treatment to my understanding for a collapsed lung is to create negative pressure in the chest cavity with a syringe, but I have no idea if that technique can be used multiple times like it was in this fic.  
> .
> 
> Vasco also unwillingly donated blood but since blood transfusions weren't a thing (at least in our world) for another hundred or so years I didn't really know how to describe the process without using modern terminology and that felt weird in the story.  
> .
> 
> As far as I can tell this game takes place in the 17th century but all of the medical procedures that would have actually saved Cyrus in this fic weren't invented til the 18th so sorry about that. But also there's magic and people that turn into tree monsters in this game so I think it's safe for me to take a few liberties.  
> .
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading!  
> .  
> EDIT:  
> Having now received some feedback I made a few edits. Would anyone like me to make the end fluffier/add another chapter of fluff? I feel like this hurt/comfort has more hurt than comfort rn


End file.
